


Unravel

by UselessThorn



Category: OC - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Depression, ED - Freeform, Eating Disorder, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sad, Trans, Trans Male Character, m/m - Freeform, mlm, self hate, selfharm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22108759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UselessThorn/pseuds/UselessThorn
Summary: "I love you.""Did you?""I do."-A short, two part angst fic I made of my OC's.
Relationships: Victor (oc)/ Arin (oc)
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Victor rubbed his diaphragm. His chest ached. He couldn't focus on anything other than the pain. His lungs felt tight and heavy, his breathing labored. He pressed his lips together in a grimace.  
How long had it been?  
Had he slept in it?  
He had to admit that he was horrible at tracking how long he'd been binding on a good day, but fuck, something was wrong. He dealt with the pain on a daily basis, but this felt different. He could handle the random jolts of heart-stopping pain that ran down his spine every once in a while, even when he wasn't binding. Yeah, it hurt like hell, but it was only a few seconds. This, though, this was a dull ache that had been there just long enough to become a problem.  
"Babe?" Arin sat up from his position on the couch. He scooted closer, "Hey, Vic?"  
"Yeah?" His voice was strained, anyone could hear it, especially Arin.  
Arin reached out to touch his shoulder, as if unsure if it was okay. "What's wrong?" He seemed genuinely concerned, but that was the problem. If Victor told him what was wrong, he'd make him take his binder off.  
Victor couldn't do that. No matter how badly he fucked up his ribs (and god forbid- a future with top surgery), he couldn't take it off. He needed to feel safe. He couldn't be without it any longer than absolutely necessary. It was his comfort, his armor. He needed it more than anything else, save for his boyfriend.  
His boyfriend who was looking down at him in concern, his boyfriend who he was worrying.  
"I'm okay." Victor grit his teeth as he waited to see if his lie stuck or not.  
"No, you're not."  
What did he expect, honestly? Victor curled into himself in shame. He was too tired this time. He was too fucking exhausted to pretend that he was stronger than he was, he couldn't do it, not now. He spent so long carefully crafting lies and fake smiles and it was killing him. It was tearing him apart from the inside. He was done. He was ready to give up.  
"Baby," Arin whispered softly, lovingly. He repositioned Victor to be laying in his lap. "Baby, baby," He repeated his words. His voice was honey, soothing and warm.  
Victor wanted to reach out. He wanted to comfort his boyfriend, tell him he was okay and put him at ease. He wanted to collapse into Arin's arms and cry and let him help, but he did neither. He was stagnant, unmoving as he fought back tears.  
"Can I ask you something, Vic?" Arin ran his hands through Victor's hair in a steady, unchanging pattern. His touch was soft and safe.  
He nodded.  
"How long have you been binding?"  
Victor tensed, his shoulders raising and his fists clenching. That was Arin's answer. "Baby, can you take it off?" Victor's entire body shivered every time he used that name for him, something so intimate and loving. Something so caring and devoted.  
Victor shrank further into Arin's lap. He closed himself off completely, cutting himself off from his lover.  
Arin gently guided him to sit up. "I can help you take it off."  
Victor stared at him. His eyes expressed how broken he was- how shattered. He was a million shards of glass, all laid out before Arin to try and put back together. Nobody had tried before, for fear of cutting their hands. He hoped Arin would try.  
Arin gently placed his hands on the bottom of Victor's sweater. His eyes never left his. "It's okay, let me help you."  
Victor swallowed. He closed his eyes and nodded, shuddering as he took a deep breath. He surrendered himself completely, putting himself in Arin's hands.  
The air was freezing. His arms were exposed to it now, the warmth gone and leaving him in shock.  
His shirt was gone, leaving him in nothing but his sweat pants and binder. He hadn't been this exposed in so long.... since he was happy. Since he could let Arin see him, since before he unraveled.  
Arin's hands found his binder. Victor's eyes shot open, he had never let anyone else take it off, had never been that vulnerable, "Wait!" He found his voice, but too late. Arin had removed it in a swift motion, leaving Victor completely exposed.  
This was worse, this was so much fucking worse than binding. His eyes burned and it was even harder to breathe than before. There was a lump he couldn't swallow in his throat. He ripped himself away, turning to cover himself, to hide from his boyfriend. He was ashamed, so unbelievably vulnerable. He hated it.  
Arin touched his shoulder. "Victor," His voice hadn't changed from its honey tone, "Baby, we need to talk about this."  
"There's nothing to talk about." Victor grabbed a throw pillow to cover himself as he stood and tore his clothes out of Arin's hand. He knew, he knew damn well that he had given Arin permission to do what he'd done, but he couldn't help but feel completely violated and incapable of trust. His skin crawled. He was cold, so damn cold.  
"Vic," Arin sighed. He looked down, ran his hand through his hair. "We can't pretend this isn't happening."  
Victor silently turned and walked to the front door. He knew how much it would hurt Arin, he knew he was right, but that didn't stop him. He didn't think anything could at this point.  
"I can see your ribs, for fuck's sake!" That stopped him. That completely floored him, in fact. Arin… didn't yell. Arin didn't lose his temper, never got angry at him.  
His voice softened, "You're so easily bruised, your wrists look fragile, your hand barely fits in mine anymore, you never look in the mirror when I'm around, but I see you when you think I'm asleep. I see you shiver all the time, I see you trade your soda for diets and your coffee for tea. I see you-"He broke off. Victor was terrified of what he would see if he turned around. "I see you stop trusting me, I see you shutting me out and caving in on yourself. I see you self-destructing and I've been too scared to say anything. Too scared to hurt you, to fight you. I let you destroy yourself and for that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Victor. I'm so fucking sorry." He stood up. "Please, turn around. Talk to me. Don't kill yourself in front of me."  
Victor bit his lip. His last defiance was breaking, he wanted to turn around more than anything else at that moment, he wanted to turn around and collapse into Arin's arms. But that meant surrendering, being vulnerable, giving himself to someone else. Trusting him.  
"Please, turn around."  
Victor let a tear run down his cheek as he took a step forward. If he left, he could fall apart, away from Arin, away from his worry. If he left, Arin could move on.  
He could die by himself. He would have total control, he would die alone, how he lived. It only seemed fitting to end his life the way he lived it.  
But he wasn't alone anymore. He had someone, he finally had someone who was worthy of surrendering to, who had proved time and time again that he would be nothing but devoted.  
"Turn around." Arin's voice wasn't level anymore, it was loud, breaking, hurt.  
God, the hurt was so clear in his voice. Victor was killing him. He was breaking him. He was destroying his only love by destroying himself.  
One more step. Arin was silent. Step, step.  
Step.  
He put his binder and sweater back on.  
Step.  
His hand reached for the door.  
Turn.  
The night was cold and smelled faintly of cigarettes. "I love you," he finally faced Arin, his broken, hurting Arin. His love, his life, his soul.  
"Did you?"  
With that, he left his soul behind to breathe the bitter, cold winter night air. It burned his lungs with the agonizing promise of freedom, the addicting reassurance of being alone. Of dying alone.  
"I do."


	2. Chapter 2

They were dancing, by God, they were dancing. The room was warmly lit by candles, 80's music playing softly in the background. it was more than a dream... it was real and he was there.  
Arin was there. Victor reached out to touch his face, make sure he was real. His skin was warm and smooth. He was the sun. He was so beautiful. Victor pushed back tears.  
"Baby?" That word, that name, that voice.  
"How do I know you're real?" Victor pressed himself against his love, resting his head on his shoulder.  
Arin took Victor's hand in his and placed it over his heart. "There, now you know."  
Victor stood straight as he put Arin's hand on his cheek, "You're so beautiful,"  
Arin moved his hand to the back of Victor's head and brought him closer. Victor didn't stop him, he only silently encouraged him. His lips were art, his mouth was sweet.  
"Thank you for saving me," Victor whispered softly as he pulled away.  
-  
It was winter again, dreaded, painful winter. It was cold and bleak and reminded him of what he almost had, of what he let slip away.  
Arin spent most nights like this on his porch, inhaling smoke and burning his lungs, a habit he'd only picked up after Victor left in an attempt to bring something of him back.  
This was the last place he had seen him, cold and shivering and fragile. Where he'd let him leave. He didn't stop him, didn't say the right words, didn't reach out and keep him in the damned house.  
"Stop it," He scolded himself. He couldn't think like that, he couldn't let himself slip again. He had to be strong in case Victor came back, in case he needed him.  
That was what it was all about these days, right? Stay in shape to protect Victor, keep his stuff where it was, keep plenty of food (even diet cokes), Always put away money in the bank, just in case Victor came back.  
It had been a year, but no time had passed. Arin was still standing in the hallway begging for Victor to turn around, to come back, trying out new words every time, but he always walked away. In his dreams, in his thoughts, everywhere. Victor walked out that door every day, and Arin paid the price.  
His mom stopped calling, his friend stopped trying to set him up on coffee dates and eventually stopped talking to him altogether, but that was okay.  
More room for Victor. It always came back to him, everything he did, every day, every action was done in the hopes he would come back.  
Call it love, call it an obsession, it was what it was, and it hadn't changed in a year.  
Arin took one last deep inhale of smoke before he reached back into the pack. "Fuck."  
Empty.  
Empty, empty, empty.  
The gas station wasn't far away, he could make it before it closed. He dropped the empty pack into the gray snow. He gave a bitter chuckle. Even the snow seemed to understand.  
The wind cut through him as he walked, his mind wandering. He knew this path. He made the trip more often than he should have. His mind wandered to where it always went- to Victor.  
He saw him everywhere he went, saw him walking down the street, or the more common occurrence, passed out and alone and hurt. He saw him vividly, only for a second, then he was gone, leaving Arin disoriented and frantic.  
His doctor gave him medicine, he sold it.  
He glanced into the alley. There he was, Victor. Arin tensed, every time he saw him it felt real. He saw him, black hair grown out and tangled beyond repair, smudged with dirt and grime. He was bruised and battered. He was thin, so fucking thin, and he looked high on God knows what.  
Arin stared sadly, taking it all in before he disappeared.  
One second.  
Two.  
Three.  
Five...  
He wasn't gone, he should have been gone by now. Arin was frozen, this could be it, this could be Victor. In all his dreams he rushed to save him, but this time, he was unable to move, to even blink.  
"Baby…" He whispered. He walked slowly, agonizingly slow as if Victor would disappear at any second.  
He knelt down.  
Victor stared with blank eyes. "How do I know you're real?" He asked, somewhere far from his body.  
Arin let the tears fall as he placed Victor's hand over his heart. "There, now you know."  
Victor smiled, staring at the sky. "You're so beautiful."  
Arin let out a choked sob as he placed his lips against his. He struggled to keep any form of composure.  
"Thank you for saving me," Victor whispered. He looked so at peace, so beautiful.  
"It's okay, baby, you can leave now." He went limp in Arin's arms. His weight was next to nothing.  
Arin hugged his body to his chest. He was finally at rest, nothing could hurt him. His angel was carved into a marble statue, perfect, skeletal and deathly. All he'd wanted was for the victor to be at peace, all he needed was for him to stop hurting.  
Arin could finally stop chasing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my short angst fic :-)  
> Contact me at TheAbstractIdea on Tumblr if you'd like :p


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